


Christmas

by Transient_Bard



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Because Sae deserves a christmas scene, F/M, Marked as underage because Sae's very much aware of this, SPOILERS FOR P5, and because jesus christ this is an interesting ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transient_Bard/pseuds/Transient_Bard
Summary: A prosecutor finds herself without a date on Christmas, and reaches out to a delinquent.Surprisingly, it turns out well.  Even if it may end up being a once-in-a-lifetime thing.





	Christmas

It was Christmas. 

More specifically, ten-thirty PM, of Christmas day proper. Despite the snow wafting its heavy, silent ways to the ground outside, sticky clothes clung in clammy, sweaty methods to the body of a woman and a young man, sprawled almost carelessly on top of one another. And neither of them were in any mood to care about the unsettling sensation upon exhausted frames, tangled still within each other’s arms and legs and other extremities. Exhausted, that is, except for a pair of hands – one to each participant – snaking their merry, mischievous ways back down each other’s flanks. The more slender of the two wrapped short, lacquered nails and a skilled typist’s fingers around the other’s length, coveting it quietly and coaxing its growth with slow, languid moves; the other’s more calloused hand trailed and skated with fingernail edges along the hip of the former, diving in a slow haze to comb and rake the inner thighs of the policewoman. A low purr of appreciation, sensuous but slow to come to fruition. This would certainly not be the last time their bodies moved as such tonight, Sae was sure.

The night had started off simple enough. Sae Niijima, still reeling from the affairs of the Phantom Thieves and her own unknowing involvement, was left feeling rather adrift when the final month of the year came about. Not that she was the type to necessarily date, of course – the job was always her true passion, and the blind goddess with the scales and sword was who her devotion and drive dedicated itself to. But she had been left, as was growing into a steadily more common occurrence, alone on the week of Christmas. So many of her coworkers, those of which that she even considered potentially up to the societally risky proposition at least, had already been put on duty that night, or had plans with their significant others – proposed, propositioning, or already involved. And for some reason this year, it hit her far more than most. Far more strongly did the spectral corrosive of anxiety-poison wring her heart, over something she knew shouldn’t be that much of an issue.

But she resolved, similarly strangely, to do something about it this year. She was still relatively young, and worse comes to worse, there were plenty of singles’ events in the city. But who would know such matters? One face arose from the mental mire, and she almost immediately tried to push it down due to pure instinct. It wouldn’t budge. The prospect was almost sinful in her eyes - and yet her phone was up to her ear before she knew it.

"Hey... Kurusu-kun. It's Niijima. I apologize if this is perhaps a tad... last minute. But, I've got a favor to ask of you, a really big favor. I know, I know, it's Christmas and all that. You probably already have plans, I bet..." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could give it a second thought.

The answer surprised her more than her own courage. And sent something in her heart, perhaps a piece of that bitter grey rock of sensibility upon her fantasy, careening away into the abyss, never to be found again.

>>><<<

The coffee and curry cafe was in its normal place, and LeBlanc’s sign said it was closed, but the detective knew better. She stepped in, closing the door behind her gently. Despite being assured that it was just a dinner to share together – to which Sae readily agreed upon, the debonair bastard he was with his skill of persuasion – there was a very strange, yet welcome, current in the air. Deep, deep down in her heart, something resonated in a tone that she had never heard, but knew instinctively. Something was going to happen tonight, something mutually agreed upon and fulfilling all of the hidden criteria that either one never knew they had, and would probably never happen again. Probably.

It was indeed as Akira Kurusu had said – a section of the upper floor of LeBlanc had been converted into the best approximation of a real dining room. Candles, fabric tablecloth, low lights, and homemade food (Italian, but with an authenticity that was almost impossible to find by most of the people in Japan’s skill alone; she reasoned that somewhere in LeBlanc’s probable documents he found some recipe snatched from a vineyard in northern Italy – or, perhaps, knowing Akira-kun’s talents, procured on his own). He made an excellent conversationalist, which helped unwind the knot of anxiety that had tried to form in the spot just below the center of her chest. Even managed to throw in a glass or two of champagne – she insisted to keep it to a low number, given that this was already something that would garner the wrong kind of attention if it got out; he agreed whole-heartedly. Akira was by no means a perfect partner, but the showing he put on for Sae was doing wonders for both of their mental states.

And then the words, what little there were in the quiet lull of the snowy night, spilled. The words themselves weren’t necessarily lewd by any stretch of the imagination, but they escaped lips like fate itself had taken control of their tongues. No proclamations of undying love and fealty, and no carnal displays of epithets. Hell, in the fugue she was in now, she couldn’t properly remember what was said. But they were close, empty glasses precariously mounted on the TV stand, and one hand went around another’s waist, and the rest became a flow of moves that were built into their DNA. 

Hells, the sheets were damp even if they hadn’t even put up a real sweat effort, she thought. Just borne of their caressing and their oral dances, brought a bone-weary expenditure of effort. And both of them still remained not completely nude – Sae left in the secure, soft support of some lingerie that she had always dreamed of using upon some third or thirtieth date, Akira in well-sewn but innocuously solid boxerbriefs. His glasses had long-since been cast onto the nightstand, giving him the unintentional appearance of what he was – a teen who surely was just confused and stumbling along in life same as everyone else, gray eyes casting furtive glances at Sae’s own of cherrywood, unsure yet if the male had crossed a line with her or not. He hadn’t spoken much since the heavy petting had started, and his touch had centered on all the spots on Sae’s body that were socially acceptable for someone his age to be in contact with - her sides, her back (she seemed to make a very nice sound when her lower back was rubbed), her arms and neck and shoulders, and legs - far longer in person, now shed of most of the normal trappings she clung to which hid such features. 

In Akira’s eyes, Sae deduced, this was likely the first experience he’d had of another woman upon his couch; a faint sense of accomplishment, followed quickly by a slight taste of acid in the back of her throat. For being such a stickler for laws and rules, she was coming unwound after being wined and dined by a high schooler. A concept to struggle with later, she decided.

But Sae had no thoughts about confusion or even patience. Akira had provided kindling, tinder, and fuel to the furnace, so expertly, to ensure Sae’s flame would not easily be snuffed tonight. She rolled her hips in a beckoning grind upon the contact of Akira’s fingers upon her hidden flame, a rich pink and glistening with anticipation for what would contact it next. Less remarkable than the tool within her hands was the physique of he who bore it – lithe, deceptively powerful, even the vestiges of abdominal muscles becoming defined. He must have worked so hard to maintain it, she absently, clearly thought.

“Akira…” she purred again, leaning down to brush her high cheek against the smooth lower torso of her confidant. She tried to come up with something smooth, something suave and vexing, something to put him further in the same manner of trance that had left them in such a state. Nothing came to her; she let it go easily, and instead laid little appreciative butterfly kisses down the trail of fine hair, all the way to the base of his length. A sharp glance to his face, to gaze upon the messily half-lidded expression he bore. Perhaps if she couldn’t overwhelm him with words, actions would do the trick. Even if she wasn’t the most skilled at the act. “Don’t fall asleep on me yet~”.

Her lips, far better suited to casting words of truth like knives upon those that deny it, far more used to reprimand delivered in cracks of bullets shpt. rather than affection given, part with the roaming citylight sheen to expose her questing tongue to his shaft. A long, languid brushstroke from bottom to flared top, her own chestnut eyes never leaving the thief’s face. He’d stolen her heart, now she’d steal his soul tonight. Maybe return it temporarily. If he satisfied her to her desires. 

A wry chuckle from her throat upon that domineering thought, a little rush of endorphins to all the right places. She idly wondered if this was what it felt like to be the one with the true power in the situation, instead of just the half-finished dream her daytime job promised. Was this the echo of the rush Akira and the Phantom Thieves indulged in with every leap, slash and shot across the Metaverse mindscapes? Maybe she’d never know - but to have such a capable young man willingly falter under her administrations, given with no demanding of recompense or bargain, was… exhilarating, in a strange and simple way. Her flower and loins tightened with the thought, but she didn’t stop - not now, not when the first chorus was being canted. Gripping it with a sterner hand, focusing her attention upon it., breaking her gaze to properly ensure her administrations reached and applied correctly. Lips wide, to seal around the ridge of the head, to allow her tongue and mouth to work further upon that sensitive brace of nerves and salt. Sure, she’d seen her share of videos depicting the act, both educationally and recreationally, but she cast both of their unsaid paradigms aside. This was _their_ time, hers and Akira’s, and it was theirs to enjoy as they saw fit.

Fever filled the room, fogging the windows and beading collected sweat upon skins once more. Positions had changed, upon his coaxing with a tactless, but effective, repeated tugging upon the inside thigh - “on top,” he barely , and she agreed. Core open between awkwardly splayed legs, an alternate effort for comfort and stability as she tried to keep focused on tugging, bobbing and sucking upon Akira’s manhood. The kid’s length was average, she assumed, for a young man, but its sensitivity kept surprising her - his moans and whimpers were far more than one would expect when she lashed at his flesh with her tongue so rapidly. It wasn’t long before Akira himself tried to apply what he had experienced - she felt the pulling aside of the silken panties that were five to ten years perhaps out of date in terms of style, and lips directly making contact with her exposed… pussy. (Sae had never gotten used to calling it in such a term, it felt far too crude for what was honestly nothing to hold shame or taboo over)

Sae let out a quiet moan, a non-verbal affirmation and consent, and redoubled her efforts to consume Akira, rolling her hips into his face to drive home the point while her mouth and wrapped hand worked to milk more reactions from him. Traces of slick, clear liquid leaked into her mouth from his tip, similarly salty but also heavy with a heady scent that she had very rarely borne witness to. It filled her head and her mouth with a sort of stickiness, more actualized need in a consumable form - and stronger than she had felt in quite some time. Human effort at the tease and oral work, with experimental pulling apart of Sae’s flower petals for Akira, was paying off.

“See…~” she crooned, her free hand slipping the tight canyon between their torsos to reach for her sopping core, to show him how she gleamed within. “Hah, you were doing good - but, don’t hesitate. You can use your tongue, your fingers, I don’t mind… Just don’t hold back. You’ve got nothing to fear from me.”

“Niijima-san…” he whispered, reverent.  
“Not… don’t call me that. Not here. Anywhere else, but here. Just… call me Sae. No -san, not my family name, not tonight.”  
“But--mmmph--!”  
“Shush. Eat up.” She shut him up with a rearing back, lowering her core onto his face once again. 

“Let me have this, just for tonight.” 

A bit of everything she felt on those seven words - relief of exhaustion, lust overriding major logic, exasperation on Akira’s hesitance, she needed him to step up and fast, and the resonant pleasure of all of the above. Something in her definitely enjoyed the aspect of telling Akira what to do, so helpless and lost in his gaze; but he wasn’t just any young man. 

To her surprise, he did step up. His hands joined the fray, keeping her lower lips pulled apart to allow access to more sensitive, inner folds. His tongue, now gaining a vestige of the sharpness it carried when the domino mask of the Joker resided on his features, competed with her own for speed and precision, lashing itself over the folds and the top point of her heat. The moans both of them invited upon each other either were muffled, turned into vibration upon the other’s nethers; or were few and far between to break the surface of the quiet and wet sounds of their bodies. She felt her inner thighs tighten, press around his head to hold him steady - “don’t stop now, don’t stop don’t stop, right there~” - before a wave washed over her frame, a lightning orgasm that caused a shuddering “Oohhhh god yessss…” to spill out so cravenly, before breaking down into murmurs of broken moans. 

She… wanted more. 

She didn’t want to admit it - but she wanted more. It was a dull, hard warmth that she felt below the center of her chest - her instinct, her gut feeling, had all agreed.

Akira clearly did as well. But with him so close to exploding, and her not far behind - already anticipating the internal reeling after the flashbang - she breathed. Took it down a notch, she had to. A drop in her soul, but she forced it down for a moment. Just a moment, she promised herself. Just a moment to not lose myself in the haze so easily.

That is, until Akira stepped up. Or, more appropriately, started to take things into his own hands. Taciturn as always, but clear with intent, he coaxes her to adjust, to shimmy her way down his torso - right upon his pelvis proper. His own length still remained in the digits of Sae’s hand, languid strokes drawing out its continued attention. A bit of a little dance, knees between legs and a couple awkward laughs to strike against the hushed tension, and the underside of Akira’s member was being coated with the liquid shame and tantric fluid she naturally made. 

But she looked at him. She looked, and catalogued silently everything that she saw on his face. And there was, at the same time, nothing and far more than she could hope to draw from his words alone. Micro-expressions, a key piece of interrogation knowledge that she took great care and pride in learning. Akira wouldn’t look away from her - partly in virginal wonder, part in direct focus to the task at hand, part for the course of simple attention. 

“Kurusu-kun…” The question was unsaid, but it still hung in the air. 

“Y-yeah. Only if you are.”

If the prosecutor would remember anything from this night that would stick with her, long after they had parted ways, it would be the sense of something intangible - what she imagined was her soul, almost tangible in a mass of nerve endings just under her solar plexus - turning and unlocking with those words he spoke. It wasn’t revelatory, so much as a pressure valve being released, after far too long of creak and buildup. Sae made a decision, with no internal monologue or dialogue at that moment, for the night, and it felt so good on far more than a physical level to be able to choose to be someone else, even if it was only temporary. To live truly for a little while - maybe, just maybe, there was something about Akira Kurusu, the Phantom Thieves’ Leader, the “Joker”, that she had always had a weakness for. Of how he could be so confident, so well-spoken, and yet so… surprisingly fearless. Whatever he chose to do, he chose knowing the risk - but that it had to be done. ...Or that he wanted to do it. 

And she had to admit envy at many times she had witnessed the Thieves, Akira at the helm both visibly and invisibly - at how they’d cavort and soar, their masques burning away to show their golden eyes and selfmade power to the world. He inspired the truth in others, and even unwillingly to the world - and even if he’d pay the price for disrupting societal ignorance, they both knew it was to be just temporary, as far as setbacks went. Akira won, and the wound would heal beautifully. The Thieves ripped the mask off of the culprit and held it to the sun, and the world judged rightly.

And without you, all of this would have been for naught. Truly, justice and judgement can be meted upon, and fortune to boot. Such a journey, to be undertaken...

An inner voice, that rang of steel and leather, of pure passion for her purpose and of unwavering dedication. Her voice, and not her own. She knew not of its origin, aside from her bosom - but she smiled. An infectious one, that spread through her body. To return to the task at hand - something to consider and research for later. The voice nestled itself comfortably within the folds of her psyche, content to take a back seat for now. There were more… pressing matters at hand. 

Her manicured fingers guided the candy-gloss tip of Akira towards her sex, loving the sensation of it rubbing against her petals. Her throat still blocked with her heart way up in it, still in the process of free-falling - do what you wanted to do all this time, even if it’s only once. The tip sinks within her, and lips part while eyelids inverse the motion. A gouge within her, so delightfully made, accented with a “Good… lord, mmnnn…” from the prosecutor. She can’t come to the phone right now, she’s about to ravage the uncatchable thief of hearts, leave a message… For a few moments, freefall was what it felt like - taking more, and more of him within her, till she felt her outer mound make contact with the groin of her lover. 

“Gimme a minute… holy fuck…” he managed to pant out, sitting up. “You’re… you’re really tight--”  
“Can’t wait... “ she breathed, trying her best to raise her hips - and immediately regretting and savoring the dragging of Akira’s flares upon her internals. Shuddering breath forces Sae to grab for his shoulders, he complies willingly.  
“Take it slow, Sae-sa--” The protest is cut off with a kiss to his lips, and again he obliges, parting his clever mouth once more to let the accomplice tangle with him. Only for a moment, though, before she dances away in the moonlight intrusion from the window.

“What did I say about calling me by proper titles or names, tonight…?” Akira could see a trail of glittery saliva from his lips to hers.  
“Not to do it?” He ventured to reply.  
“Good boy.”

===

Dawn threatened to break the blue of the sky by the time the Prosecutor got back to her apartment. All the nerve endings on her body felt like they were strung with electric thread - no amount of caffeine or dextroamphetamine could match this feeling, however temporary it was bound to be. 

Makoto wasn’t home. That was… interesting. Idly, she wondered what her little sister had decided to do with her night, as she rather swiftly absconded to the shower.  
“What is going on with me today…?” she muttered to herself, divesting the many layers she wore to block out the momentary cold and heat, before stepping into the hot spray. It was harsher-- she chalked it up to her hypersensitive skin, and turned it down just a touch. The sandblast grit turned into a lot softer of a flow, though still hot, and an involuntary shiver and groan left her.

But she was preoccupied with thinking, while she washed… Part of Sae felt like she needed to scrub out some unforgivable sin, some stain that she incurred upon her form. Another felt liberated, clearer and more in tune with some unknown truth about herself. Yet another subsection still burned, in her lower midsection, with both exhaustion and excitement.

I liked it.

The two had separated not more than an hour prior with the same kind of stumbling awkwardness that she felt she walked into LeBlanc with. There was no guarantee that this would be a repeat affair -- with her position, with him soon going to be serving a sentence in juvenile detention especially, with the lack of a definition of what they were. The more she thought about it, the more sober she felt, the electricity fading from her touch. 

But… she couldn’t say she regretted it. Not in the slightest. The final emotion she felt was light. Whatever would end up occurring in the future, near and far, she at least obtained a glimpse of the rationale behind the Phantom Thieves -- not off of observation, but from transcending logical limitations and finally, finally just letting her guard down for once. To see through Akira’s eyes, to see what Joker saw and felt. To see why Joker fell in love with the whole affair.

Unbidden, and without her even thinking about it, her hands skated across her form while the water dripped and rivuleted down Sae’s skin. It was a foreign action, but not one she couldn’t become used to - a coming-to-terms with herself, what she chose and what she did. These hands, she knew, were not ghosts of Akira’s, but of her own decision. She was quick to remind herself of the circumstances, to silently chastise herself for seemingly growing soft and pliable under the touch of a man.

But she found less and less reason to listen to that anxiety-poison, trying to whisper self-immolating ideas into her head. 

She made a conscious decision - spur of the moment, sure; perhaps unreplicatable - and it turned out far better in her favor than she had anticipated. It wasn’t her being allured by a siren’s call, and it wasn’t coaxed out of her by nefarious means -- no, it was greatly encouraged to be true to herself. And no form of regret seemed to ultimately come to her. 

...yeah. She could accept that.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I've got a huge weakness towards Sae, and because damn it she needs love. Plus, the Phantom Thieves are all about riding the edge of legality.
> 
> Critique is welcomed, this is my first post on AO3 but I've had this in the works for some time. 
> 
> I may keep this up with the adult confidants - currently rolling around the idea of Kawakami and Tae having a foray into an actual kink club (based on my own experiences with such places).


End file.
